


spin the heart

by tryslora



Series: 1000 follower celebration [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: First Kiss, Ice Skating, Kid Fic, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 00:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Bitty goes to Faber when it opens for figure skating so he can relax. When Jack shows up unexpectedly with three children in tow, oh goodness, that sets Bitty's heart spinning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spin the heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [froggydarren](https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/gifts).



> At the two ECAC schools I have attended, the rinks sometimes open for figure skating hours, so I modeled Faber's hours after Union and RPI. I made up a winter holiday weekend for Samwell because I wanted a reason for Jack to come back with company during Bitty's junior year. This was written for a prompt response for my 1000 follower celebration on tumblr. I had two prompts, one from froggydarren: "Zimbits and: Bitty sometimes gets out of the Haus to de-stress by practicing figure skating, and one time Jack lands himself with babysitting duty and brings the kids (cousins or something) to the rink. Bitty offers to help Jack teach the kids the basics of skating. ;)" and one from Anonymous referencing a prompt I had reblogged: "I’m a figure skater who’s trying to practice and you took your baby cousins out to the rink but none of you can skate do you need help??" They were similar enough that I decided to combine them.

Faber isn’t open for figure skating often during the hockey season, but during Winter Carnival they have open rink times from ten in the morning until five at night, on both Saturday and Sunday.

Which means Bitty gets there at half past eight on Saturday to get started with his routine, warming up and remembering how to stretch unused muscles. It wouldn’t do to try a jump and pull a groin muscle, not when they’ve got a game that evening. And he can’t tire himself out too much, not before he has to skate with the team, but he just wants to relax.

And while baking is one way to get out of his own head, nothing works quite the way that figure skating does.

He skates for an hour, then takes a short break for hot cocoa, blowing on his chilled fingertips while he holds the warm cup. His cheeks are so cold that they feel warm, reddened by the chill air. As people start to drift in for the open hours, he finds a seat on a bench and re-ties his skates, fixing the laces which loosened while he worked.

He doesn’t really fit in with all the moms and toddlers from the graduate school population at Samwell, or the students here for skating dates, but he tried not to stand out too much. All of his competition costumes are home, of course, and he just has a pair of loose, comfortable pants that don’t flare too much, and a dark red thermal henley for both comfort and warmth.

Bitty takes the ice as it opens officially, and does a few laps to warm up again. He skates easily, testing footwork around the edge of the ice. He stays just enough out of the way as he works grapevine and then long graceful glides. He can hear the chatter, catches the people looking at him, and he skates backwards for a moment to offer applause to a little girl attempting a tiny jump.

Some folks drift to the center of the ice. He sees two girls in their practice skirts doing spins and doubles, showing off for the boyfriends. One smaller girl tries to imitate them, skating backwards before she attempts her jump and wipes out, spinning on her bottom across the ice until her friends scoop her up. She laughs, and tries again.

That’s what it’s like to love the sport: nothing stops you, not even falling.

Bitty moves lazily now, still skating backwards, swaying through patterns as he goes. He wishes sometimes that he could figure out what was different about falling and being checked. The intent, he supposes. The violence behind the act, and the risk. If it hadn’t been for two years of checking practice with Jack, he’s not sure he’d be where he is now. He’s a junior and a captain, and fast on his skates. He’s still afraid sometimes, but he hears Jack’s voice whisper in his ear on the ice, and it gets him through.

That man’s heart is gold, and Bitty treasures it.

He spins into a lazy jump, arms coming in to slide up his body and into a full spin. There’s an urgency in him when he thinks about Jack, thinks about this year without Jack across the hall. Oh, he treasures Chowder—that boy’s a blessing with a heart big as the sun—but he misses knowing that Jack’s there, solid and true and somehow within reach even while he keeps himself apart.

He spins until he feels like he can breathe again, until the tension drops away and he exits the spin in a showy stop, dimly aware of applause around him. He blushes brightly, waves at the people watching, and skates on.

As he passes the gate, he’s hears someone else clapping, a slow steady sound with the chatter of small hands clapping faster beneath it. Bitty glances over, and his toe pick catches, because _oh my goodness_ , that’s Jack.

Jack’s _here_ and he’s got three small children with him, and Bitty’s not sure his heart can take this. It’s hammering so loud in his chest as he trips through some fancy footwork to stay upright until he’s gliding over to the side, catching on to stop himself rather than doing a proper stop.

“Jack,” he says on an exhale. “You’re here. Oh goodness, you’re actually here.”

“I was able to get away for one day.” Jack’s hand rests on the head of a boy as if he can hold him down when the boy is bouncing on his skates. “I have to drive back tomorrow.”

One night during the Winter Carnival. Wait… “You’re going to see us skate?”

Jack smiles slowly, and there’s a light in his eyes that makes Bitty’s heart trip. “Of course. I’m sorry I couldn’t be here for all your games.”

“You saw the first,” Bitty says. “And you were there when we played at Brown.” Because it was Providence, and if Bitty could have, he would have seen a Falconers game then, but the schedules didn’t line up.

There’s a small cough, and he looks down to see a small girl staring up at him, her eyes wide. “You jumped,” she says quietly, and Bitty laughs. She makes a face at him, nose wrinkling as her lips purse. “I want to jump,” she says.

“Do you know how to skate?” Bitty asks. He holds out one hand, glancing at Jack to as silently if it’s all right, because he wouldn’t want to run off with someone’s children. He wonders why they’re with Jack, and how this has happened, and as Jack carefully takes the hands of the smallest boy to lead him onto the ice, Bitty wonders if his heart can handle this.

She shakes her head. “I’m Cheyenne,” she says, and slides one foot onto the ice, hands windmilling as she discovers just how difficult it is.

“Hello, Cheyenne.” Bitty catches her hand, helps her stay upright as her feet slide in opposite directions. “Just dig your skate in, yes, like that.” He helps her find her footing until she’s standing there, wobbling. “So,” he asks softly. “Did you follow our Jack into the rink, or did he kidnap you?”

She laughs, and the boy behind her snorts with laughter. He skates like he’s done it before, once or twice, using the sides to hold himself upright. “Our Aunt is his agent,” she whispers. “And she _promised_ we could skate with him this weekend because he’s such a good skater. And Evan loves him.” She nods at the toddler, who wobbles forward on double-bladed starter skates while Jack kneels down to help him.

Oh Lord, Bitty is going to die today.

Something pokes his hip, and the other boy is looking at him, waiting for attention, while Cheyenne giggles. “I’mStephen,” the boys says. “I’m seven, and this is the third time I’ve been skating. Cheyenne is six and has never been before, and Evan is two. I think Jack is the best hockey player I’ve ever seen.”

“Bittle’s one of the best.” Jack’s voice is quiet and firm, and it shivers through Bitty who didn’t think Jack was even listening.

“I’m not bad,” he demurs. “I was a better figure skater.” Which is true in its own right; he won a championship as a junior skater, and although it’s looking good that Samwell will be in the playoffs, he can’t guarantee anything just yet. And Bitty knows better than to be arrogant; he just intends to keep this hockey season going as long as he can.

“Show us.”

Bitty looks up at those words, eyes wide when he sees the crinkle around Jack’s eyes and the smile.

“Go on,” Jack says. “Show us.”

The rink is more crowded now, even the small center space where figure skaters spin and jump. Bitty’s cheeks flush with warmth, and he looks down at the children. “Goodness, no, this isn’t the time. And here are these children and you’ve only got two hands. I could help teach them how to skate. There’s a bit of a practice area for children set aside, down the end of the rink.” He doesn’t wait to see if they follow, simply tightens his hold on Cheyenne’s hand and helps her navigate slowly along the wall, as she clings to it with one hand and to Bitty with the other.

Behind him he can hear Jack telling the story of how Bittle used a spin to avoid a D-man during the first game this season, taking the puck down the ice to get the assist when he passed it to Garcia—a frog forward—for the goal. It warms Bitty’s heart that Jack remembers, warms him all over to hear him tell the story unprompted, as if it’s something he’s thought about often.

Bitty likes that idea, that Jack thinks about him. It’s something he tries not to think about much himself, lest he fall down the rabbit hole of unrequited affection.

When they get to the area behind the cones, Jack bends down to help Evan navigate on skates, and Bitty can’t help but stare. Cheyenne still clings to his hand, and Bitty tries to distract himself by bringing her into the center of the small space and coaching her through how to angle her skates and push forward with tiny steps. When she trips over a toe pick, he catches her and sets her upright to go again.

But his gaze keeps going back to Jack and his infinite patience with Evan’s toddler awkwardness.

“We like Jack,” Stephen says, his arms crossed as he manages to keep his balance.

“Jack’s a good man,” Bitty says, trying to keep his voice even. These are children, and he knows that children are the sort who are like fairies or elves, able to cut through everything and see into the hearts of men. And oh, he really doesn’t need anyone talking about what’s in his heart right now, not where Jack could hear.

“Mommy moved in with Aunt Georgia in Providence,” Cheyenne tells him in a loud whisper. “Jack babysits us sometimes when Mommy has to work and Aunt Georgia has to travel. She says he’s her favorite client. Jack says that’s just because he helps, but he’s very nice. He even brought us pie once.”

Oh he did, did he? Bitty gets Cheyenne and Stephen holding hands, working together to skate a few steps. He moves backwards, watching them, his own hands out in case they need help. “Was it a big pie, or little pies?”

“Little pies,” Stephen says. “There was cherry and pecan and pumpkin and he said he ate the maple apple because it’s his favorite.”

That makes Bitty smile, knowing that Jack wouldn’t give that one away.

“Bittle made those pies.”

Bitty startles, flailing and finding his balance roughly as Jack chuckles, one hand on Bitty’s back to help him out. Bitty feels the burn of it, sees Evan chewing on his hand, held loosely on Jack’s hip, and oh dear Lord, he’s just going to melt right here. “I did,” he manages to say. “I made those pies and sent them to Jack to share, so I’m glad he did.”

“I can’t eat as much pie as Bittle sends,” Jack says, and his fingers stay where they are, pressed into the small of Bitty’s back. “So it’s good that you helped.”

Cheyenne beams at the compliment, and Stephen flushes brightly.

He’s good with children. Oh goodness, Jack Zimmermann is _good with children_. Bitty’s heart can’t take much more of this, or the way Jack’s looking at him with that small smile, like he’s actually pleased to see Bitty, like maybe he came to the rink to find him, and brought these little children with him as an excuse.

It’s a lovely fantasy.

“Are you going to show us a jump?” Cheyenne asks and this time Bitty nods, because he needs a moment to escape.

He glances at Jack, motions to the boards and waits while Jack brings the children over there, gets them settled where they are out of the way and watching, then Bitty heads to the center of the rink.

It takes a moment of skating to settle his mind and his heart, to almost but not quite forget that Jack is watching. Waiting. Bitty starts with footwork, losing himself in the shift of heel to toe, the dig into the ice. He does small circles, uses a spin to center himself, comes out of it gliding backwards, building up speed to do a quick double toe loop, right into another one after.

Tension falls away, and it’s easy to hear the music in his mind, skate to something that no one else can hear. He builds up forward moment to do a quick single axel, hears the smattering of applause in response. He shifts direction from the backwards exit, a quick abrupt motion taking him forwards again, this time into a double axel and a triple lutz, ending on a glide that slows and finally stops.

He realizes that he’s taken over the center, that everyone is staring at him. There’s a murmur about _hockey_ and _captain_ and he flushes brightly, but none of that matters, not compared to the way Jack stands at the side, still watching him.

Bitty skates over slowly, letting the ice carry him back to Jack the way it always has. It seems inevitable in some ways, that the slick surface will bring him here no matter what, that this is where he has to go.

The children stare at him, but he can’t look away from Jack, the intense gaze making Bitty flush even brighter.

“Do you want to try skating around the rink?” Jack asks, and Cheyenne and Stephen both nod emphatically. Jack lowers Evan, urges him to hold out his hand and Bitty takes it silently so that they can slowly follow behind the other two as they skate hand in hand.

“They were impressed,” Jack says quietly, and Bitty smiles. “Do you miss it?”

“Yes,” Bitty admits, because how could he not? God’s honest truth, figure skating is a part of his heart and always will be. “But I love hockey.”

“Even checking practice?”

Bitty glances sideways. “I actually miss checking practice. Keep thinking I ought to have someone slamming me into the boards on a regular basis, but there’s no one here to do it.”

What he’s really saying is _I miss you_ , but there’s no way to do that aloud, not here and now.

“Sometimes I miss checking practice, too.” Jack stares straight ahead, and Bitty wonders if the _I miss you, too_ that he hears is what Jack meant to say.

“Are you babysitting all day?” Bitty catches Evan as he starts to slide down, and the little boy laughs and clings tightly to Jack’s hand. “There’s a kegster after the game tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

Bitty’s heart thumps and he exhales roughly. “Well, then, I’ll look for you.”

“You won’t have to.”

Bitty glances sideways just in time to catch Jack looking at him full on, a small smile lifting his lips. “I’ll find you, Bitty,” Jack says. “I’ll definitely find you.”

That’s… it’s… “Oh goodness,” Bitty says softly. “Oh my goodness, yes, you definitely will.”

Jack turns away, smiling like something’s been settled, and it makes Bitty’s heart twist, wanting to rush the day ahead. Instead he helps Jack wrangle the children off the ice, out of their small skates and into warm clothes and boots instead.

Several hours later, Samwell wins, 4 to 1 over RPI.

And an hour after that, Jack makes good on his promise, leaning into Bitty, pressing him against the wall and kissing him soft and slow and cautious as if— _oh goodness_ _—_ as if Bitty might even think of saying no. “Don’t you stop doing that, Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty whispers to him. “Don’t you ever stop.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com)!


End file.
